


Hallelujah

by thinkpink20



Series: Hallelujah/To Be Alone With You [1]
Category: The OC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-28
Updated: 2012-02-28
Packaged: 2017-10-31 21:18:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/348461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkpink20/pseuds/thinkpink20
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set post university, Seth and Ryan meet again after a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hallelujah

Seth checks the neon time on the dashboard and lets his head fall back against the rest. The traffic hasn’t moved in approximately thirty three minutes and the constant bulletins on the radio tell him it’s going to stay that way for a little while.

“Still heavy traffic heading east through the Back Bay area, most of the 93 is standing still right about now, Ted.” 

“You don’t say?” Seth mutters to himself, under his breath.

He flicks off the radio and sits in silence, listening to the engines still running and over-heating around him. Dusk is falling over the sky scrapers and the figures walking by with briefcases in hand, lights are starting to flicker on in the distance and Seth knows soon the famous Boston skyline will be illuminated in harsh, electric light.

Seth sighs, and listens as somewhere far behind him, someone honks their car horn like that will just clear this whole thing up, like the cars will part like the Red Sea for Moses. He curses whatever motherfucker decided he was the one who had to travel the breadth of the country to go to the stupid conference (from which he gleamed nothing, so it was all rather pointless) and whoever bought him this new, itchy suit, because the back of his neck feels red raw from the collar. He leans up to scratch the skin again, then shrugs his shoulders to shake off the feeling.

The air con in the hired car doesn’t work, so Seth is sweating slightly under the surface of the suit material. It’s been a long day and all he really wants is to get on the flight so he can fall asleep surrounded by the noise of jet engines and long legged ladies with trolleys, but of course he’s Seth Cohen, and there is no such luck.

If he hadn’t previously thought so for a variety of embarrassing reasons, Seth is now confirmed in his opinion that Boston is hell on earth, neatly packaged in fancy wine bars and harbours full of boats and dumped on the east coast. The weather has been close and clammy, no sun to remind him of home, but just the stifling heat like a very bad joke without the punch line. If it was raining, he could understand that, but this kind of heat with grey, ominous skies? It was all too much for a California boy to take.

From lack of anything else to do, Seth flips the radio back on.

“It’s chaos out there, Ted, the freeway is pretty much packed up right through the financial heart of the city and Police are advising that as soon as things get moving people should avoid the 1A and take the alternate routes to Logan International and the East side of the city.” Her voice sounds tinny and Seth can hear the chopper blades swishing overhead.

“Well thanks Martha, more updates on the traffic madness in the next half hour. Right now though, here’s an old classic from Dolly Parton, back in her hey-day of – “

Seth clicks the radio button once more and plunges the car into silence. He shifts in his seat and scratches idly at his collar before looking to his briefcase on the passenger seat and pulling out some story ideas he came up with back at the hotel. They look thin and flimsy with poor plotlines when he reads them through but he stuffs them back into a bigger pile of A4 sheets and looks back at the road. He isn’t in the mood for failing superheroes and villains with twenty arms.

After another good fifteen minutes of dead still silence and relentless itching at the back of his neck, Seth has to turn over his engine quickly as the car in front begins to edge forward slightly. He knocks the car into first gear and rejoices audibly even though their current pace could only be described as crawling. 

Lights have gone on high above him and at street level so as Seth moves steadily he casts his eyes over the little shops and their neon lights, the offices and their window-desks with people working late, hunched over tables. In many ways Boston reminds Seth of New York, except without the insane taxi drivers and the lack of eye contact. This place is big, and powerful, and has a real presence, a feel of actual work getting done that somehow his executive suite on Boulevard can’t muster. Seth admires it, in the sense that he likes to look at it from a distance. The floors are grimy with the constant bad weather and all those glass fronted buildings unnerve the clumsy teenager in him.

Suddenly reminded that his intended route is closed, Seth ponders how else to get to the airport. His flight isn’t for another six hours but he doesn’t know his way around the city and any signs he follows will lead him to the dead end he is trying to avoid. The damn rental car doesn’t have GPS and the only person he knows that knows their way around Boston is…..

Seth looks over at his cell and considers the consequences and repercussions, then he thinks how stupid he’d feel calling Michelle in the office back in California and asking her to get him directions when he’s forty five hours away.

He really only has one option.

Keeping his eyes on the slow moving traffic and one hand on the wheel, Seth leans over and picks up the phone. Flipping open the cover and scrolling down the list of names, his finger hovers over the call button when the black bar highlights ‘Ryan : Home.’ He doesn’t think he’s ever actually called this number from his cell before, even though he’s had it in there for over a year.

It rings four times, and Seth is about to hang up when a voice in his ear makes him jump.

“Hello?”

For a second, Seth says nothing, just lets his brain repeat that one word and the tiny variations of inflection that make it sound so familiar.

“Hello?”

The repartition prompts Seth.

“Uh hi, Ryan, it’s me.”

There is a second of silence and Seth expects a shaky voice to speak next, but Ryan sounds completely composed.

“Hey, Seth, what’s up?”

“Well, ah, I kind of….need your help.”

Of course it’s not weird, Seth tells himself, that he calls up out of the blue after not directly making any effort to speak to Ryan in nearly two years. Whenever they did end up talking it was always by accident, at birthday parties or Chrismukkah events. And how many times, when they were young, did he call Ryan to get him out of some sticky situation? A guy with a gun, Summer and Anna attacking him with kisses - this is what they’re all about. What they always _used_ to be about.

“Sure. Everything okay?”

The fact that Ryan doesn’t hesitate lodges itself as phenomena in Seth’s brain.

“Not really. I need directions. To the airport.”

Now Ryan hesitates, and Seth feels sweat form on his top lip. This car really needs air con.

“The airport?”

“Yeah, I’m stuck on the 93 and there’s this horrible road jam so I have to find some alternate route to – “

“You’re in Boston?”

Seth seriously considers lying, turning off the phone and _walking_ to the fricking airport.

“Ah, yeah.”

“When did you get here?”

“Yesterday - I had this conference down in the south of the city.”

If Ryan is hurt Seth didn’t call before now, his voice doesn’t betray him.

“You’re going to have to go the long route, right out towards the city limits.”

“Yeah, that’s what I guessed. Do you know what road numbers I want, or….”

“It’s pretty long – and complicated.” Seth hears Ryan sigh, and feels utterly uncomfortable, in more ways than one. He scratches the back of his neck, trying to pull the collar away. “What time does your plane leave?”

“Uh, one am.”

“Wow. You’re early.”

Seth bites back something sarcastic.

“Yeah, I guess, the hotel room was rather boring.”

“Well why don’t you come over and see me? I’ll draw up the instructions for you.” Seth hears the sound muffle, and thinks that Ryan must have the receiver between his neck and his face, the way he always used to at home. There is the banging of pots and pans in the background. “I can make you some tea.”

“Tea?” Seth says, swerving slightly to avoid hitting a fire hydrant. “Dude, when did you become English?”

Ryan laughs hearty and warm and natural into the phone line and Seth scratches the side of his neck with his free hand.

“I’m on Dresser Street, just off West Broadway, if you’re on the 93 you’ll see a turn off pretty soon.”

“But I don’t know which one your house is,” Seth says, then realises how bad that sounds, because Ryan has lived there for nearly three years.

“Don’t worry, I’ll wait outside.”

“Man, you sure? Because I could just – “

“No, Seth, it’s fine, I promise. See you in ten.”

The phone clicks to a buzzing line and Seth flips the thing shut because he’s slightly speechless. When he called for directions he expected a lot of things, possibly, ‘Where the fuck have you been, you bastard?’ or even ‘What kind of brother are you? I was better off with Trey,’ but certainly not being invited around for drinks.

Seth is distracted by road signs for West Broadway and lets himself be taken there by the wheels of the car. He notices that the streets he drives down look up-market and well kept, with a doorman on every single building. It shouldn’t surprise him really, knowing the amount of money Ryan makes, that he would be living somewhere as sophisticated and expensive as this. He’s right on the edge of the financial district, not far from the Boston branch of The World Trade Centre and somewhere, only a few blocks down, is the harbour front. Everywhere looks modern and glass fronted, and Seth wonders if Ryan designs places like this.

Eventually Seth catches the sign for Dresser Street, though he nearly misses it and probably confuses the guy behind him. He’s so glad to actually have the car moving again though, he almost misses a small, lone figure on the sidewalk, wisps of smoke rising in the air above him.

There are limited places to park, but Seth finds one near and takes his valuables with him, even though this area looks quieter, and more classy than the street he just came down. The buildings are all wide, with more glass fronts and inside Seth sees reception areas. Only when he finds Ryan more clearly in the gloom does he think to look up.

Ryan lives in a sky scraper.

“Hey, man.”

Seth drags his eyes back on ground level and finds Ryan scrubbing out his cigarette in the street.

“Hey.”

They shake hands, and the air feels tense as they try not to meet one another’s eyes.

“You started smoking again?”

“Not all the time, just….occasionally.”

Seth nods, and looks down at the dead butt, which he images has the imprint of Ryan’s lips.

“You wanna come up?”

Of course that’s what he came here for, so he smiles. “Lead the way.”

“So how is everyone?” Ryan asks, as they go through the large glass doors. He nods to the blonde on reception.

“Good evening Mr Atwood.”

“Uh, they’re fine,” Seth answers. This feels like a parallel universe.

“I haven’t spoken to Kirsten in a few weeks. I should call her.”

They make it across the marble flooring in the atrium to the lifts at the back, covered in gold and patterns of ancient markings.

“She and dad are taking vacation to Europe next month.”

“Really? Which city?” Ryan asks, hitting button number 23 on the lift as the doors close.

“23? Dude, whatever happened to Ryan Atwood who was afraid of heights?”

Ryan smiles, “He got hypnotherapy.”

“That crap works?”

They both laugh, then Seth averts his eyes to the floor because it’s still pretty tense, and his collar itches but he feels weird scratching at himself like a monkey.

“It was years ago.”

“Really? Well…that’s awesome.”

“Yeah.”

Seth watches the digital numbers rise slowly, 8 - 9 – 10 – 11 – 12. He thinks he would go crazy living 23 floors up, waiting every day this long in a lift, even if the atmosphere wasn’t of knife cutting quality. 

Ryan shifts a little bit, hands in his pockets and looks at the ceiling. Seth has a panic filled moment thinking that maybe this thing will break, and he’ll be stuck in here. With Ryan.

“So, ah, how did you get into alternate therapies?” Seth asks for something to say, and feels utterly stupid that his question is so lame. Ryan doesn’t seem to notice.

“Ellie was really into that stuff, so….”

The words hang in the air uncomfortably for a second.

“Floor 23,” A computerised voice says, and Seth feels the lift slow. The doors slide open a moment later.

Seth steps forward at the same instant as Ryan, and they both falter.

“After you,” Ryan says. Seth proceeds just to get out of the goddamned lift, and looks up and down the marble encased corridor. 

“Which one is…..?”

“Seventeen,” Ryan tells him, and takes a key out of his pocket as he walks away. 

“I didn’t disturb your food, did I?” Seth asks, thinking of ways to escape.

“No, not at all, I’d just finished when you called.”

They reach a gold plated seventeen and Seth stands a more than ample distance back as Ryan uses his key and pushes the door open. “Come in.”

It’s not like anything Seth has ever seen before, except maybe in movies. Just like downstairs, a large proportion of the wall is glass, floor to ceiling. Moving closer to the view, Seth finds he can see right across Boston, the colourful lights twinkling in the distance like man made stars. The whole skyline is here, as far as the eye can see, all the offices off in the distance with their lights on, working late, all the other sky scraping flats, housing families and bachelors and wives and daughters.

“What do you think?”

Seth turns around and sees Ryan standing next to a mahogany rimmed glass table, keys in hand. It’s the first time he’s actually noticed what he’s wearing, black suit pants and white long sleeve shirt open at the collar with a blue tie hanging loosely down. His hair is different now too, pushed down over his forehead, making him look older.

Sometimes Seth still sees everything from the eyes of his eighteen year old self.

“It’s….amazing.”

“Yeah. Weirdly peaceful, don’t you think?” Ryan drops the keys and comes to stand next to him, hands in pockets. “This was the final place I looked at and I didn’t expect to take it, simply because of the heights thing, you know?”

Seth nods.

“But when I got up here, it was just so quiet.”

Seth drags his eyes back to the view of the city stretched out before him.

“Feels like a completely different city.”

“I know,” Ryan smiles, “You wouldn’t believe you were stuck in that line of traffic a half hour ago, right?” He points, and Seth follows his finger, eyes catching on a line of bright white lights at ground level.

“Wow, that’s the 93?”

Ryan just nods. From here, they all look like tiny ant cars to Seth.

“Lord, you could get lost up here.”

“You want a drink?” Ryan asks, and when Seth turns, he sees he’s already gone back to the kitchen next to where they came in. It’s minimalist, purely the essentials and a wine rack.

“Uh, yeah, but no tea,” he pulls a face, which Ryan spots and smiles at.

“Coffee, or something stronger?”

Seth takes one final glance out at the lights across the city and goes to stand opposite Ryan at the breakfast bar.

“What are you having?”

“I’ve got a bottle of red here somewhere,” Ryan says, searching the antique wine rack. “It’s got a good date on it, too.”

“You sound like Caleb,” Seth laughs, fingers clutching the edge of the Formica of the work top. Ryan locates the bottle and gives him a sideways glance for his comment. Seth is taken back to a million other places and times in his head when Ryan has looked at him like that. Sometimes little things can act like a rake, pulling up all the old stuff you tried to bury.

While Ryan finds glasses and a corkscrew, Seth wanders across the open, wooden block floor space and into the living area where there are two large brown leather sofas and a matching brown leather Lay-Z Boy. 

“Cool,” Seth says, running his hand over it. “I always wanted one of these.”

“You want something to eat?” Ryan asks, just as Seth occupies one of the sofas. “I’ve got some bread and cheese or some bagels. I could...?”

“No, honest,” Seth puts up his hand, “I’m good. I just ate at the hotel.”

Ryan nods to himself, hands Seth a glass of red wine then sits down on the other sofa. In the tight silence that follows, Seth reaches up and scratches his neck lightly, savouring the momentary release of irritation. He takes a sip of his wine and looks around, comparing the earthy browns and greens of Ryan’s place with the more lively blues and red of his own apartment back on the beach front in Santa Monica.

“So,” Ryan says, breaking the tension (and wasn’t that always Seth’s job?) “How did the conference go?”

“Oh, it was pretty useless. They just need someone from Marvel to be there to represent the company.”

“And that was you.”

“Yeah, which would have been good, had I not had a stack of work to do back home.”

“So what’s the latest with Justice League?” Ryan asks. “I don’t keep up with it any more.”

No, of course you don’t, Seth thinks. When he speaks, his voice showers no trace of bitterness.

“Wonder Woman kills the evil Batman clone.”

Ryan smiles, “That was your idea, I take it?”

“Wrote it all myself,” Seth says proudly, then takes another sip of wine. “This is good,” he tells Ryan, though he’s never been able to tell one wine from another.

“It’s a Marlow, ’52.”

Seth nods like the wine connoisseurs on the food and drink channels, to which Ryan smiles, because he knows Seth knows nothing about wine. 

“So mom tells me you have a new job.”

“Yeah, they want a four auditorium theatre down on the harbour front.”

“And you’re designing the whole thing?” Seth asks, careful not to spill any wine on himself or the sofa.

“Well, not just me, there are some other guys helping out.” Ryan is clearly just being modest, and Seth wonders if that’s a new quality, or one Ryan always had. The lines of years gone by and now are blurred in his head.

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, should be a challenge,” Ryan nods. He drinks more wine then gets up and returns to the kitchen for the bottle. He tops himself up then offers it out to Seth, who is supposed to be driving, but nods anyway. When Ryan is done, he sits back on the sofa. 

“I was supposed to get you directions to the airport, right?”

“Ah, yeah. Apparently the Callahan Tunnel is shut off.”

“Okay,” Ryan leans over to a magazine basket that Seth hadn’t noticed was there and retrieves some paper and a pen. He begins writing, making the occasional drawing, and Seth thinks that if an architect can’t give him a good diagram, no one can. 

The silence between them while Ryan writes makes Seth shuffle in his chair so he gets up and wanders around for a moment, ending up back at the great glass window. The 93 is still full with tiny light ant cars.

“Don’t you ever miss Newport?”

It’s not something Seth means to say, and he checks his wine glass as soon as the words register, because he didn’t think he’d drank that much.

Ryan is silent for a while, and Seth doesn’t turn around to see if he is looking.

“Sometimes.”

It seems like a pretty well considered answer, and maybe it’s true. Seth knows he would miss California if he left, but thinks that maybe Ryan’s not tied to anything in the way he is. Maybe that was what was wrong all along.

“You never think about leaving?”

Now it’s Seth’s turn to contemplate and look for words that aren’t too prickly or offensive, nothing that will set off something he can’t pull back. 

“Sometimes.”

He hears Ryan chuckle.

“Mom misses you.”

“I miss her too, and Sandy.”

Seth waits.

“And you.”

Seth notes the falter in Ryan’s voice and thinks about smashing the wine glass, because he came out to Boston for a conference and got a head-fuck.

“Summer’s getting married next fall.”

“Really?” Ryan sounds genuinely surprised, and Seth turns to face him.

“Yeah.”

“Zach?”

Seth nods, “They announced it a few weeks back.”

“That’s great.”

Seth notices the directions, all finished and done lying on the coffee table, and knows that he can leave right now, he can get back in his crap rental car and drive to the airport and fly home and not see Ryan again until Chrismukkah, because he can easily persuade Summer not to send him a wedding invite.

Instead he doesn’t because he thinks, Well, I’m here now.

Ryan gets up from the sofa and disappears behind the partition into the kitchen, empty glass in hand. There is more silence, but when he speaks, his voice echoes around the walls of the living space.

“So, you still seeing that guy? What’s his name? Aidan?”

Seth hides his look of shock quickly when Ryan reappears, wine glass full now.

“Ah, no.” Ryan has sat down thus has his back to him but Seth feels himself being watched anyway. “He and I – well, I finished it. But, how did you – “

“Kirsten told me.”

Seth is quiet, then he leaves the city lights behind him once more and returns to where Ryan is sitting. 

“She thinks I’m weird about it.”

Seth has to process that one.

“What, sorry?”

“Kirsten, she thinks I’m weird about you being gay.”

Seth snorts, which earns him a smile.

“Really?”

“She never said it direct, but she hinted.”

As much as he tries not to, Seth grins, then leans back on the sofa. “Dad always said mom couldn’t see things right under her nose.”

For a second Ryan meets Seth’s eyes and they smile, but then Seth drops his gaze back to his wine glass, which is mysteriously empty. He knows where Ryan keeps the bottle now though, so he goes off into the kitchen and when he returns he finds Ryan leaning over to a petite contraption on the table.

“What’s that?” he sets the wine bottle down next to it and takes a gulp of his drink.

“A CD player.”

“My God, it’s tiny.” Seth touches it, and wonders just how much money Ryan is making. “Is the sound any good?”

Seth presses ‘play’ and listens for himself. Coming faintly over speakers that seem to be positioned right around the room even though they’re only in front of him are the opening strains of ‘We Could Be So Happy Baby.’ He sits back, impressed.

“Jeff Buckley?”

Ryan smiles.

“Glad to see you learned something in the Cohen household.”

“I learnt a lot of things in the Cohen household.”

The strains of the music fill the pregnant silence while Seth tries not to look at Ryan but can’t resist.

His eyes are twinkling.

“What about you?” Seth asks, taking more of his wine. “You’re with that girl, right? Sarah?”

Ryan glances away, at his wine, of which he takes a sip then sits back, mirroring Seth’s posture.

“That ended ages ago. I’ve been single for a while.”

Seth nods slowly, staring intently at the way the blood red liquid swirls around and up, against the glass.

“You hear about Marissa being back in rehab?”

Ryan nods.

“Mom keeps you updated alright.”

“She also told me there’s a job coming up at the Newport Group.”

Seth’s eye snap away from the wine.

“There is?”

“She wants me to take it.”

“Are you – “

Seth stops. He sounds too eager. Controlling his voice he goes on.

“Are you going to take it?”

Ryan is silent for a long time, and Seth wonders if he’s just here holding some one sided conversation with Jeff Buckley, who is talking about cripples dancing. 

“I don’t know.”

When Ryan eventually speaks, it takes Seth a moment to remember what his question was. He thinks the wine may be one hundred percent proof.

“They’d love to have you back at home.”

Ryan looks up. 

“And?”

“And what?”

“And you? How would you feel about – I mean – “

Ryan falters, and stops, and it’s uncomfortable to listen to. Seth scratches the patch at the back of his neck and feels it prickle when he lets his collar go.

“I don’t want to make things....weird.”

“Is that why you live seven states away?”

Ryan says nothing to that, swills his wine a little and then takes another sip before going on like Seth never spoke. “I don’t think I will take it. I mean, there’s this job here now, so...” Ryan straightens up in the chair and Seth watches his arms, the muscles defined beneath the cotton.

“Mom would have you married to some Newport girl for the grandchildren,” Seth smiles. “She’s always complaining I’m not going to give her any.”

“Nah, I’m never getting married,” Ryan says with what Seth thinks is near to a grin. The air seems lighter, all of a sudden.

“You almost were there for a while.”

Just like that, the air thickens. Seth plays the staring game with him, and Ryan gives in and looks away.

“Hmmm, I guess.”

Seth sloshes back some more wine. “How _is_ Ellie?”

“I haven’t seen her in a while,” Ryan admits, pouring himself more drink, then offering out the bottle. Seth pushes his glass forward. “She’s having a baby, last I heard.”

Seth is glad he’s not holding his glass, because he knows it would be spilled.

“Is it – “

“Mine?” Ryan laughs easily. “No. She’s with this guy named Scott.”

“Oh.”

Seth feels relief wash over him, right from his toes upwards and he wonders why, because it’s got nothing to do with him if Ryan fathers every child in the tri-state area.

As the song dies away into the background and ‘Lover You Should’ve Come Over’ begins, Seth curls his fingers around the stem of the wine glass and moves them down, slowly. He tries to remember what he heard about that, something Summer was telling him about that he wasn’t listening to and when he looks up he sees Ryan watching him, his hair slightly scruffy. Ryan swallows and Seth watches his throat move, eyes stuck on the spot.

“I miss you.”

Seth barely hears it, but when he looks up to Ryan’s face he knows for definite that the words were spoken. Ryan’s eyes are glassy in the lamp light from the table next to him, and Seth sees a flash of something he used to know, long ago.

“You know, I should be going.”

Seth launches himself up from the sofa then has to sit down again because of the head rush.

“You okay?” Ryan asks, his voice thick with concern and suddenly his glass is gone and he’s at Seth’s side, totally ruining any concept of personal space. “You can’t drive if – “

“I’m fine. Just stood up too quickly.”

Seth tries it again, and this time it works. He doesn’t want to look back down at Ryan in case he sees that something again. 

He won’t let himself.

“I’ll tell mom I stopped by, she’ll call you no doubt and – “

“Seth,” Ryan’s hand is on his arm and Seth shrugs it off as best he can. 

“Those directions, do you have – “

“You can’t go like that, I’ll drive you.”

“No, honestly, I’m fine. I just – “

Seth isn’t drunk, he knows that because in college he built up a tolerance to rival Marissa, but he’s stumbling around his words because now Ryan is trying to hold him up, and the feel of his skin again, after so long, makes him weak in a way he’d forgotten how to be.

“Ryan, please.” Seth steps away.

“I’m sorry, I just thought – “

“I can’t, okay?”

Seth has never seen Ryan look so puzzled or hurt and he hates himself even though Ryan has made him feel both of those things in the past, and much worse.

Seth sits down again, defeated, and pulls at his collar. When Ryan eventually moves again, he sits next to Seth on the sofa, but this time at a suitable distance. Seth listens to the music play ‘So Real’ and he guesses that Ryan doesn’t know what particular significance this album has to him, unless his mother told him that too.

“I’m sorry.”

Seth doesn’t bother looking up. “It’s okay.”

“I should never have….”

“I can’t, Ryan. That’s it, that’s all. That’s why this is weird, okay? Because – “ Seth takes a deep breath and shuts his eyes. “I can’t.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything, he just sighs and Seth feels him lean forward on the couch, which is followed by a loud swallow and the replacing of glass against glass.

“I can make you coffee, if you want to sober up for the flight.”

“I’m not drunk.”

It’s amazing what comes back to you when you really give time to remember, Seth thinks as they sit in near silence with Jeff Buckley and he listens to Ryan breathe. They never used to sit like this together as teenagers, they were always up doing something, going to parties or playing stupid video games or watching films. Seth knows that when he was younger he was just one big ball of energy, but now he’s lost that. He’s calmer. Or at least that’s what his mother says. She says he matured out of it but he doesn’t see it that way because he knows different.

The song moves on a track to ‘What Will You Say’ and Seth almost chokes.

“Can we – Please, can you skip this one?”

Ryan obeys without speaking and sits patiently, like he’s waiting for Seth to say something. Seth feels the weight of the pressure on his shoulders. 

After a while, Ryan gives in, and breaks Seth’s inner mantra of the words to ‘You And I’.

“Why the song skip? You never skip Jeff Buckley.”

Seth doesn’t want to answer the truth. The words, the melody, the feel of the song remind him just like certain strong smells do from your childhood, they take him back to his bed in his single dorm room in his first year at Berkeley. He remembers lying under the covers for hours, eyes screwed closed behind the tears as these exact tracks played.

“Reminds me of college.”

“Berkeley?”

“Actually, I think I might take that coffee.” Seth opens his eyes and tries a weak smile. Ryan nods and goes out to the kitchen, at which point Seth reaches a hand out under the table to what he now realises is the CD rack. He finds Jeff Buckley and scans the play list.

“Seth?”

Ryan has placed hot coffee in front of him, and is back by his side.

“Thank you.”

It looks weak, just the way he likes it, and he knows it will be sweet as hell with sugar.

Feeling fingers slide against his briefly, Seth lets Ryan take the case out of his hand.

“You want to tell me what this has to do with Berkeley?”

Seth sips his coffee and considers it.

“I didn’t go to my first seven weeks of lectures in first year.”

Ryan looks up, clearly surprised.

“Why?”

“Because the first six weeks I lay under my duvet with that,” he jabs a finger towards the CD case, “playing and thinking about you. I never got out of bed. Then, when I finally did venture out, I caught Freshers flu and spent another week back in bed.”

Ryan frowns. “How come you never told me? When I called home Kirsten always said you were doing fine, and – “

“She didn’t know.”

Ryan nods slowly, then looks back at the case.

“I was miserable too, you know.”

Seth doesn’t believe it, not the way he was. He says nothing.

“I tried to call you but you never answered. Your mom said you were out making friends, so I just…”

“Forgot about me?”

Seth regrets the needy tone of his voice and the words but he knows that six years and countless boyfriends can’t change things that are etched into your skin forever. 

“What? No, Seth, how could you - ? You think I forgot about us?”

Seth doesn’t say anything, just takes a drink of his coffee and savours the way it tastes in his mouth. 

“What were we meant to do, Seth? Shock everyone by kissing at one of your parent’s parties? Give Julie Cooper and all the other gossips something to hate Sandy and Kirsten for? That place is hardly somewhere you announce you’re in love with your foster brother.”

Seth thinks that if Ryan was so in love with him he would never have announced on their first Chrismukkah break home that he was dating Ellie, the allusive girl Seth has only ever seen in photos. Seth thinks that if Ryan was so in love with him, he wouldn’t have asked Ellie to marry him two years later.

“This is old ground,” Seth says, hoping he means it. “Let’s forget it, okay?”

His smile is fake and plastic and he knows it, but he waits to see if Ryan will accept it or not. He never used to, but every time he’s seen him in the past few years he has. Seth wants to go back to their uneasy stalemate and avoiding each when they’re at home for gatherings.

“No.”

“Pardon?”

“We can’t forget it.”

“We already did, once.”

“I never did, and I don’t think you did, either.”

Seth turns to look at Ryan, who has a determined look in his eye.

“Ryan, nothing’s changed, so let’s not go through all this again. I don’t think I can, alright?”

Seth picks up his coffee mug and drains it whilst on his way to the kitchen. He leaves it in the sink and takes a moment to compose himself. He’s leaving, and somehow he hopes that after a good sleep on the plane this evening won’t hurt as much. Then next time, he’ll get lost in a million cities before he tracks down Ryan for help.

Going out of the kitchen, Seth sees Ryan sitting on the sofa. He looks empty, somehow, and Seth thinks of days when they used to hold each other up.

“I’d – ah, I’d better go or I’ll miss my plane.”

Ryan just nods, his eyes look tired.

“I’ll get mom to call you or something, let you know about Summer’s wedding.”

Seth makes his way towards the door, wondering why they keep leaving each other without saying goodbye when he hears the opening strains of Hallelujah and shuts his eyes for a second. The image of the night time Boston skyline flashes in his mind and he knows that in a few hours, he’ll be seeing it again, from the aeroplane window.

He doesn’t need to turn around to know that Ryan has left the sofa and is behind him. He feels hands on his hips first, so gentle and familiar and God, Seth thinks, this is the first time they’ve touched each other in years. 

Seth opens his eyes when he is turned around and facing Ryan, sees how close he is, how scared he looks, eyes full of fear of rejection and he feels the way Ryan’s hands are shaking a little bit, slipping around his waist.

Ryan’s lips on his are like the relief of touching down safely on the ground at an airport or drinking water when you’ve been dehydrating. At first Seth doesn’t believe it is happening, the touch of soft lips against his mouth then the sweep of a tongue. He knows it all so well, memorized it and played it back to himself and then blocked it out because his head wouldn’t let him believe it any more. But now, here they are and it takes everything Seth has not to let go and devour Ryan with six years of need and want that have been slowly storing up inside him. He does let himself kiss back though, soft and tentative and a reminder at first but then it deepens and Seth think he feels his head spin again as he clings on to Ryan as support.

It feels strange doing this after spending so much time forcing himself not to do it, and he wonders if he kisses different because Ryan doesn’t, he’s still the best he ever had. 

It’s over all too soon, then Ryan is giving him tiny, butterfly kisses on his lips and Seth is trying not to smile.

“Ryan, what – “ he whispers, and Ryan opens his eyes to half lidded.

“Don’t go.”

“What?”

“Stay.” Silence. “I miss you, Seth.”

“Ry, I’ve got a plane to catch – “

Ryan kisses him again and Seth looses any train of thought but this one. It seems broken hearts forgive and forget pretty easy when they get what they want.

Seth reaches his hands up and laces them in Ryan’s hair, bringing their mouths closer together. He wants everything that Ryan is giving him, the apologies and the years-old sentiments and the forgiveness, because Seth knows it took two of them to make the agreement they made and he’s only just now admitting that to himself. He wants to just let go and lose himself because this was the one thing he never let himself even dream of.

Feeling Ryan’s fingers push gently at his jacket, he gives in and lets the damn thing fall to the floor. His stuffy, ill-fitting tie is next and he nearly sighs with relief when Ryan opens the buttons at the neck of his shirt, instant respite from the irritation on his skin, scratching away like mice.

“Ryan, maybe we should – “

“No, Seth, no more ‘should’ okay?”

Seth tries not to smile against Ryan’s lips because he was only going to suggest they get to the couch, or the bed, or somewhere more comfortable, but he lets Ryan have his way adoring his skin, mouth slipping down to his neck to worship there. Seth knows Ryan is whispering softly all the time, little words spoken against every part of him his mouth can reach and Seth assumes it’s some sort of pardon, or confession. It’s as though the words penetrate because Seth is relaxing and giving in a little bit more every second until finally his fingers are slipping over Ryan’s tie, breaking the knot and letting it fall unhurriedly onto the leather of the couch. 

If Ryan wants forgiveness then Seth wants it too, just as much as he wants to feel Ryan’s skin against his again, compliant and perfect. The way their hands move is considerably more skilled now, shedding shirts and removing belts, they don’t hesitate for a second unless it is to savour in some forgotten memory. Seth lets his fingers run lethargically down the soft skin of Ryan’s stomach and his mouth forms into a smile before Ryan finds him again and captures him in a kiss because every second feels like absolution with the chords of the guitar filling the room from the speakers in the background.

“Seth, bed?” Ryan whispers, faces so close Seth couldn’t even focus if he opened his eyes.

“Yeah.”

Ryan holds his hand as he guides him, and Seth thinks it may be the only time they ever did that. Touching could be innocent, hugs could be forgiven but holding hands was taboo and Seth aches a little inside at the feel of Ryan’s palm fit so perfectly inside his. He aches for everything he missed out on.

The room is spotless but Ryan manages to find some washing that is out of place and throws it in the basket with his head bowed and his cheeks flushed. He mutters quickly about not expecting guests and Seth breathes deeply, feels himself standing at the edge of something. This could all go horribly wrong – again. He could lose this feeling all over again and have to pick himself back together, but somehow even knowing that, when Ryan comes back to him with eyes full of something Seth could call love, he lets himself drop and leans in, accepting every touch he is given.

The bed is big and plain, not draped with fancy sheets or cushions, but somehow it seems perfect when Ryan throws back the covers, one hand still on Seth’s hips because he won’t give up the feeling for even a second. They lose the rest of their clothes with a distinct lack of fuss - Seth might feel like he’s trembling but his hands aren’t, he might feel like he’s charging headlong into something dangerous but his touch is light, forgiving and practised.

Seth groans quietly when he feel’s Ryan’s weight on top of him again, had forgotten how heavy and reassuring it felt. When Ryan starts moving against him Seth picks up the rhythm like a song he wrote himself, hands touching everywhere on Ryan’s skin that his mouth wants to be, were it not currently occupied with Ryan’s lips that feel like a blessing he doesn’t deserve. 

Things in reality are rarely as amazing as you expect them to be, or remember them to be but Seth thinks that Ryan’s hands must be the exception. If _Seth_ had tried to forget then they hadn’t, they still know every part of him in the way they used to, and right now they are offering apologies as they run over his hips and downwards onto the vulnerable skin of his thighs. Seth accepts every touch with kisses and noises of encouragement, letting Ryan break him slowly because he is ready to accept anything, right now.

In the moments they aren’t kissing, Ryan is making the whispering noises of words again, ones Seth tries to catch and hears things like, ‘please’, ‘sorry’ and ‘forever.’ They are words that everyone uses every day but this is different – Ryan is different, that is one thing Seth has always known. Ryan doesn’t say things if he doesn’t mean them, all his words are like promises and right now they are raining down on Seth, who is soaking them in and storing them up in all the lonely places in his mind Ryan has left blank all these years.

Ryan begins moving inside him and Seth struggles to catch his breath in-between kisses. It feels like everything that was wrong is being made right but still some part of Seth needs proof. He finds it when Ryan dips his head down to kiss the hollow of Seth’s neck and looks up. Their eyes catch for a moment and Seth’s fingers curl gently against Ryan’s hips to still him. Seth knows love isn’t tangible but suddenly he feels like it is, just before Ryan pushes into him again, slightly more sharply and the touch on his prostrate makes Seth gasp audibly.

Ryan’s smile is cheeky and warm like the sun and oh, how Seth has missed that smile. Seth smiles too, when he stops seeing stars behind his eyes, and lets Ryan kiss him again, head spinning with the way Ryan still knows all these things about him, years later. It’s enough to make Seth realise that maybe Ryan never tried to forget, the way he did.

Seth pulls Ryan closer to him with the hope that this won’t just be tonight. He has had enough one night stands to know that this isn’t how it goes. The way Ryan is running the flat of his palm over his stomach and down in the space between their bodies, touching him delicately isn’t about gratification and Seth feels a heat build in his body that has nothing at all to do with his imminent orgasm.

Ryan kisses Seth’s mouth whenever he says his name between harsh breaths and Seth doesn’t remember Ryan doing this, being so vocal, but then he guesses that back then they always had something to keep quiet for, the neighbours or his parents.

“I missed my flight,” Seth says later, fingers tracing light patterns on Ryan’s arm as he lies there, trying to get his breath back. He turns to Seth and smiles, slow and lazy with his head cocked slightly.

“I’ll book you another one….for some time next year.”

Seth lets the corners of his mouth fold up and bends down a little to kiss the place he is touching on Ryan’s arm.

“You’ll stay for a while, right?”

“I have work to get back to,” Seth says, then feels like he is ruining this, and runs his foot the length of Ryan’s calf.

“You can take some time off, surely?” Ryan looks tired out and his hair is messy. Seth tries not to think of how sexy he finds it, then remembers he can let himself now, and indulges in a kiss.

“I’ll call Michelle in the morning, see what I can do.”

Ryan smiles with his tired eyes and reaches up to tangle fingers in Seth’s curls, which are suitably out of place. When Ryan pulls him down for another kiss, he pours all of his passion into it, and Seth wonders if this is all real, lying around in tangled sheets when he should be on an aeroplane heading back to the sun.

“Ryan?”

“Hmmm?” Ryan looks satisfied and lazy and his cheeks are flushed. Seth knows he must look the same way.

“I have to go home sometime, though. I mean – “

“I’m not losing you again.” Ryan sounds pretty definite on it, and Seth’s heart rate returns to normal.

“So what happens?” Seth asks, fingers resuming their intimate re-acquaintance with Ryan’s skin.

“I guess we find somewhere to live.”

“Live? You mean here in Boston?”

“No,” Ryan says, licking his lips and eyeing Seth’s mouth with hunger, “I think it’s time I came home.”

Seth feels something constrict in his chest and kisses Ryan before he can smile, or cry, or laugh, any and all of which he feels his body threatening to do. 

“I’m going to need to tie things up here first, finish off this job, stay out my lease. It’s going to take a while, Seth, we have to be realistic about this.”

“I know, I just….the thought of having you home, all to myself.” Seth can’t help but smile and Ryan kisses him again, savouring the taste of his lips.

“And we need to tell Kirsten and Sandy.”

Seth knows it’s true but doesn’t want to hear the minor details. Details last time split them apart, their families, their friends.

“Seth?” Ryan touches his chin and looks in his eyes. “It’s going to be okay, we’ll work it all out, I promise.”

“And if it goes wrong?”

Ryan smiles and Seth feels slightly un-nerved, because maybe it is just all an evil dream and he’s about to wake on a Boeing 747 with a plastic cup full of OJ in his hand.

“Pessimist.”

“But last time – “

“Last time we were eighteen, Seth, and we weren’t strong enough to face up to what we meant to each other.”

“Which is….?”

“I love you,” Ryan says simply, shrugging his shoulders as though it’s the most simple thing in the world.

And maybe it is.


End file.
